


Glory to the Red Army

by RenaRoo



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6328846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Post Season13] In the days after saving Charon, the simulation troopers of Project Freelancer are heroes, given everything that the small planet can afford to give its saviors. But with morale low, Donut decides the one thing Red Team really needs is a good old fashioned road trip to remind them what makes them great again. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Log One

**Author's Note:**

> I have lately felt like I neglect giving focus to the Red Team way too much, which is an unfortunate thing to be said of someone who adamantly declares themselves neutral purple in the ongoing war of Red vs. Blue. So I knew that for my next tale I just HAD to pick the story I’d concocted about the adventures of Donut and his heralding attempts to boost Red Team morale in the time after Season 13. 
> 
> Dedicated to @secretlystephaniebrown for being the Red Team champion of our chat groups!

It was over nine square kilometers according to the map in Donut’s hands.

And while war and terror for over a decade had kept most of Chorus far from descriptions like _green_ and _luscious,_ there was a beauty to the landscape that the youngest Red personally felt couldn’t be beat. 

The rock facings alone were unique and full of the sort of gravitas in decorating that Donut very much appreciated. 

And more than that, Donut was just pleased to know that it was _theirs._

After what Hargrove and Charon Industries had done to the planet and its people, they didn’t have much in the way of assets to repay their heroes. But god did they _want_ to. 

Just a year before, after the stated victory against Charon, when the Reds and Blues survived by the near literal skin of their teeth, Donut would have loudly claimed they didn’t need physical gifts for their sacrifices.

He wasn’t so gung ho on the subject now. 

There was a humbleness missing after a year of watching the Blues withdraw back to their ranks and share in mourning Church. After seeing Donut’s own team slowly grow tired and irritated with themselves, like the losses they suffered in esteem and character only revealed themselves over time with Simmons less prone to accepting order and Grif for some reason surprised and upset by Chorus soldiers not paying him mind. Or Lopez continuously trying to reactivate the Charon ship’s mainframe. 

Or Sarge most of all, constantly proclaiming his disappointment at barely recognizing his own team anymore.

For those things, Donut found they deserved _something._ He just hadn’t been sure _what._

Which was why it was something of a surprise that wile Chorus’ remaining population worked itself into a fever, getting ready for a public election for the first time in years, they found the time to give the Reds and Blues a reward of sorts. 

Over nine square kilometers of land – the size of a state park, really. 

And the map in Donut’s hands really wasn’t doing it justice.

Which was just the start of his plan – his _realization_ , really, that Red Team _needed_ something and he just happened to be the one to realize he could do something about it.

Putting away his map, Donut rushed back to his borrowed ATV and jumped on.

He couldn’t _wait_ to tell the guys about his amazing idea!

* * *

Reds and Blues generally ate dinner with their own sides. Even if “sides’ hadn’t been a factor for so long that even Sarge occasionally conversed fondly with Caboose and Tucker.

It was the kind of habit that wasn’t understood outside of their groups – even Washington and Carolina struggled to give explanations when they were asked. But there was comfort in the habit, to say the least. 

Donut enjoyed being able to sit at the table and look from one side to the other. To feel like they were nestled right back in the canyon.

It was also advantageous for Donut’s plans. 

He cleared his throat, loudly, and waited for everyone to stop tearing into the fried chicken that Sarge had somehow questionably obtained in the current food shortage.

Again, like old times, they barely glanced his way. Their attention was a lot to ask for in the presence of food. 

So Donut waited a moment and tried again. 

“No, Donut, we _don’t_ care if you’re eating salad,” Simmons sighed in aggravation. 

“And, yes, I _will_ eat your chicken for you. Thanks for offering,” Grif continued right after.

“He never asks for that, Grif!” Simmons groaned. 

“He might as well,” Grif fired back.

From the nearby outlet where he was charging, Lopez shook his head. “Los seres humanos son un asco.”

From the head of the table, Sarge held a hand to his chin and grumbled under his breath between bites.

“ _Actually,”_ Donut sang out, recapturing everyone’s attention. “I was thinking we should go on a road trip together.”

Everyone grew silent, staring at Donut like he was growing a second head. But even Sarge dropped his hand and perked up. 

Then there was a collective breath followed by Grif shaking his head. “Mm. No.” 

“Yeah. We’ve road tripped to all _three_ places on this planet,” Simmons agreed.

“Everyone shut up!” Sarge ordered. He pointed a drumstick at Donut. “What’s this wily plan o’ yours, Donut?” 

Perked up himself, Donut scooted closer to the table. “Well, Sarge! I’m glad you asked!” he replied readily. “See, today I was checking the perimeters of the lands that Chorus gave us. And it’s really cool and stuff. But the map doesn’t do it justice. It has variable terrain, difficult access points, and more than a few natural pitfalls we’ll have to map for ourselves! So it got me thinking. We’ve had _so_ much gloom and doom in the air around us recently, it would _totally_ be great if we had a group team-building kind of thing where we all traveled the perimeter of the lands and made sure we know everything we’re in for!” 

With every word, Grif and Simmons visibly paled. 

“No, _no,”_ Grif began. “No no no. Fuck no. I do _not_ agree to this!”

“Donut, we may have been here for a few years now, but it is _ridiculous_ to think we’re anywhere _close_ to being prepared for the wilderness,” Simmons reasoned. 

“We’re doing it!” Sarge announced, jumping to his feet and not even flinching as he almost turned over the table. 

“ _What!?”_ Grif and Simmons cried out in unison.

“I knew you’d love it!” Donut squealed out gleefully.

“Donut, this plan may be the greatest we’ve ever had from a member of Red Team who wasn’t yours truly!” Sarge continued bombastically.

“Oh, gosh, Sarge,” Donut blushed.

“I personally vote it as the _worst_ plan,” Grif grimaced.

“Which i why _you_ will be helping Lopez load the Warthog tonight, dirtbag!” Sarge ordered, a crazed spark back in his eyes. 

“Estupendo,” Lopez all but groaned. “Lo cual significa que el robot será embalaje por sí solos. Gran sorpresa.” 

“Simmons, make a sign to put on our door while we’re gone. An intimidating one! One not even a dirty Blue would cross to infiltrate our premises!” Sarge continued to order. “And, Donut! Son, grab your map after you finish your very manly meal of cranberry salad and meet me in my office!”

They all watched as Sarge charged out of the dining room. 

“Wow. I haven’t heard Sarge call someone ‘dirtbag’ in forever,” Simmons realized out loud. 

“Yeah, I was real torn up about missing my pet name!” Grif snarked before pointing a greasy finger Donut’s way. “By the way, Donut? I fucking hate you.”

“In a loving way!” Donut interpreted. He then simply smiled and finished his salad. 

The trip was going to be _great._


	2. Log Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so happy everyone’s looking forward to a Red Team story! I really feel like I should write more of them, they’re a lot of fun to write for and I just love the dynamics. Hopefully some of that translates into portraying said dynamics well lol We’ll see!
> 
> Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, AriRashkae, a_taller_tale, CutiePi, staininspace, and Yin for the feedback on tumblr and AO3!

Donut was not entirely sure _who_ told the Blues about their plans, but Wash and Tucker were by the Warthog at the crack of dawn when Red Team was getting ready to depart.

It was odd because Donut had _only_ told Caboose the night before so that the Blue could watch and clean the house the Reds were occupying. And Donut just could never imagine Caboose sharing secrets unless, of course, it was by accident. 

Accidents happened. 

Washington looked disgruntled, alert, and flabbergasted all at once as he stared down Sarge. Tucker looked like a terrible combination of annoyed and only recently rolled out of bed.

“A road trip?” Washington asked the team. “ _Really?_ You think _that’s_ a good idea?”

“You’re presuming they _think,_ Wash,” Tucker grouched. 

“Hey, your mom seemed to think it was a good idea last night,” Grif snapped from the driver’s seat. 

Moving his glare to Grif, Wash crossed his arms. “That was rude and uncalled for. And also _lazy.”_

 _“_ It’s not my finest work, but it’ll do, Wash,” Grif retorted.

“We don’t _need_ our finest for Blues!” Simmons defended. He then nervously teetered back and forth in his seat before lowly mumbling. “Um. Of course no offense, Wash.”

At that, Washington sunk his face into his hands and let out a long sigh. “There. Are _not._ Teams!” he stressed.

“Yeah, how many times do we have to go through this revelation?” Tucker groaned. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

Sarge immediately got behind the gatling gun. “The only thin ridiculous around here is that there are Dirty Blues daring to stand in Red Territory! he howled. 

“Yeah!” Donut called out gleefully behind Wash and Tucker, making both of the Blues jump in surprise. 

Tucker breathed heavily before putting a hand over his heart. “Holy shit, Donut! It’s too early for jump scares.” 

Not deterred, Donut continued on his approach to the Warthog, neatly tying his well-prepared picnic basket to the rest of the luggage and supplies. “And not to be pointing fingers or anything,” Donut began in his sing-song tune.

Wash stared expectantly. “ _But?”_

 _“_ But I only came up with the road trip because you Big Blue meanies weren’t really hanging out with us that much anymore!” he declared. 

“And the most logical response to this perceived situation is to go on a dangerous romp around a planet’s terrain we _barely_ know?” Wash asked critically. 

“Yeah, because we all know the _safest_ place to be is around you guys and the constant barrage of Blue Team problems you take with you,” Grif snorted dismissively. “No thanks, I’ll stick to Donut’s stupid as fuck field trip.”

“Hear that, Blues?” Sarge chuckled. “The boys and I are done with your evil Blue Reign of Terror! We’re taking control of the Red Army’s destiny for ourselves! Ha ha! It will bring Red Team honor and glory like a Dirty Blue couldn’t even _begin_ to comprehend!”

The two Blues stared at them in silence for a moment and Donut shrugged before climbing onto the back of the Warthog, grinning ear to ear to sit next to Lopez. The robot gave out a melodramatic sigh in Spanish. 

“This is officially the dumbest thing you’ve ever dragged me out of bed for, Wash,” Tucker announced. “I got _dressed_ to talk this nonsense through with these people. How the hell can you repay me for that?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Wash groaned. “You know what? You’re right, Tucker. This is time wasted instead of resting.” He looked wearily toward Sarge. “Just do _everyone_ a favor and keep your radio open. We’ll be monitoring it for _when_ you need us to come and save you.”

“Ha, as if!” Sarge chuckled before pointing forward. “Floor it, Grif!”

“For once, Sir? You’ve got it,” Grif replied before shifting gears and doing just that. 

Donut jumped up with the very first bump they hit and felt his smile just explode across his face. 

Flipping around to his knees, ignoring as he nearly shoved Lopez to the side, Donut rested his elbows on the backs of Grif and Simmons’ seats. He looked eagerly between the two of them.

“This is going to be so great!” Donut preened. “And it was _so_ nice of Agent Washington to offer to have our backs.”

“Yeah, he’s a real peach,” Grif grumbled.

Before Donut could ask for elaboration, there was a shot and the radio exploded to everyone’s screaming horror. Grif barely kept them on the trail.

They all looked back to Sarge in horror. 

“Oopsie,” Sarge replied with no hint of regret in his voice at all. 

Donut blinked while Grif and Simmons shared a knowing look. Donut just hoped that the music still worked or else it was going to be a _very_ long trip of trying to convince Lopez to play polka over his radio for them instead. 

* * *

As the trip stretched into its sixth hour with only twice as many stops since they had left the Red Team home base, Donut began to wonder if Lopez’s constant audible sighing discounted him from the title of “only one not talking” on the trip.

It also raised more than a few good questions about robots and the actual effort he would have had to put into forcing himself to audibly sigh just to let them all know his opinion on the whole thing.

“I just don’t see why you guys can’t play your usual roadtrip games,” Donut offered for what felt like the hundredth time on the trip. 

“And I _keep telling you_ , Donut, that we can’t!” Simmons cried out, as if Donut was the one being unreasonable. 

“Do you see any street signs in this middle of this goddamn jungle?” Grif demanded. “Ergo, _no fucking Boner Street!”_

“Maybe we should talk about worst super powers–”

“ _NO.”_

Donut hummed and leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping on the chin of his helmet. “Gosh, you guys sure are making this difficult!”

“It’s not _nearly_ as difficult as having to go on this stupid-as-fuck road trip thanks to you,” Grif replied viciously. 

Frowning, Donut straightened up in his seat and looked seriously at his orange wearing teammate. “I’m not _forcing_ you to do this trip, Grif.”

“But I am!” Sarge snapped, still standing at the gatling gun, ready to fire at the first sign of an enemy. Or for Grif to be far enough away from the fuel tank. He swirled around to look at the three of them in the front of the vehicle. “Boys, I’m giving you an official _cease and desist_ order.”

“So we can stop driving?” Grif asked thinly. 

“So you can stop complaining, numb nuts!” Sarge snapped. “And stop monkeying around! This trip is the greatest idea that Donut has ever given Red Team!”

“Thanks, Sarge!” Donut beamed.

“Yeah, okay, like _that’s_ a big list,” Simmons muttered petulantly. 

“What is _wrong_ with you two lately!?” Sarge cried out. “Can’t you see that we’re reforming Red Team to its former spectacular glory? That this opportunity is testing our merits and proving our superiority over even Mother Nature herself? This is our final line! This is our big chance! Our one opportunity to show the world how impressive and noble and _grand_ it is to be a member of the Red Army!”

Grif loudly tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as they pressed forward. “You mean _that thing that never actually existed?_ Yeah. Sure. Let’s celebrate _that!”_

“Just let it go, Grif,” Simmons sighed. 

Without further warning, Grif skidded the warthog to a stop and sent them all swerving to the side. 

“Grif! What in sam hill!?” Sarge bellowed.

“I can’t let this go!” Grif cried out. “Jesus christ! How can all of you just act like we didn’t almost die? For _real?_ For _nothing!_ For people we barely even know!?” He looked at them all, shoulders shaking. “That someone we’ve been friends with for _years_ is actually _gone for good and not coming back!?”_

They all stared at him in silence for a long moment, everyone varying degrees of shocked at the outburst. 

“Manera de arruinar el estado de ánimo,” Lopez spoke up.

“Grif,” Simmons let out in a long sigh.

“Don’t _Grif_ me!” he snapped. “I _know_ I can’t be the only one of you who realize how messed up and wrong this is!”

Sarge tilted his head. “Who died?”

Blinking some himself, Donut looked back to their leader. “I think he’s referring to _Church,_ Sarge!” he explained.

“What?” Sarge responded before looking at Grif utterly baffled. “Grif! Stop talking nonsense! You’re as nutty as a peanut brittle! Or one of those always complaining Blues! How many times has Church showed up after being dead? Too many! No funeral this time even.”

“I _think_ we just didn’t want to upset the AI by having a funeral for him, Sarge,” Simmons clarified.

“Yeah, Sarge, I’m pretty sure he’s dead for good,” Donut sighed, rubbing his neck.

“Hogwash,” Sarge huffed. “Still, that _would_ mean that Blue Team has less members than Red Team again! Which would at the very least mean that Church died a most noble death: sacrificing himself in the name of Red Team superiority.”

“Hey! You’re right!” Donut nodded, ignoring the uncomfortable shift Simmons made away from them. “That’s a way to find silver lining, Sarge!”

Grif set his jaw, teeth gritting.”I just want it remembered that you guys are sick, _sick_ bastards,” he snapped. “Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you guys?”

“Everyone processes things differently,” Simmons muttered only to be silenced by a single look from Grif. 

“Hey, you know what?” Donut asked, looking around as he stood up in his chair. “This is actually a great little clearing!” He looked to Sarge more specifically. “What do you think, Sarge? Will it be alright to set up camp, you think?”

“No hay nadie más cuenta de que los tocones de los árboles son frescos?” Lopez asked darkly. “La gente ha estado aquí recientemente. Hay que tener cuidado.”

“Aw, Lopez, you don’t have to volunteer to put up the tent all by yourself!” Donut grinned. 

The robot let out a loud, audible sigh. 

“Then it’s settled! We’re staying here for the night! Good call, Donut!” Sarge yelled, finally releasing his vice grip on the gatling gun and jumping down from the jeep. “Now if you’ll excuse me! I have to see a man about a dog!”

Lopez grunted and began to remove the supplies tied to the back and Simmons muttered under his breath about small bladders before racing off to the opposite treeline of Sarge.

Grif just gripped tighter to the steering wheel. 

Donut moved toward the picnic basket he had packed but paused, looking back at his teammate. 

“I know you don’t like outdoorsy stuff, Grif,” Donut reasoned. “But I really did just want to do this for the better of, y’know, everyone. I think it’ll be good for us. Especially you and Sarge.”

Grif didn’t even look his way so Donut sighed and grabbed his basket.

“Well, when you’re feeling more like it, I’ve got some stuff to make s’mores–”

Suddenly Donut’s vision was obscured by Grif’s open hand. 

“Hand it over,” Grif grunted.

Donut grinned and did just that. 


	3. Log Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so happy everyone’s looking forward to a Red Team story! I really feel like I should write more of them, they’re a lot of fun to write for and I just love the dynamics. Hopefully some of that translates into portraying said dynamics well lol We’ll see!
> 
> Special thanks to @analiarvb, @secretlystephaniebrown, @thepheonixqueen, illumynare, Yin, @notatroll7, @HappyFunBallXD, and staininspace for the feedback on tumblr and AO3!

Donut was used to waking up at the crack of dawn. It was part of growing up on a farm, after all. His family liked to joke that he wasn’t the best suited for farm work, but _they_ obviously hadn’t met the other members of the Red Army.

Comparatively speaking, Donut was a prime example of a farmhand.

When he stepped out of the tent he had made for himself the night before, the sun was still barely rising. So Donut stretched and let out a lion’s yawn as he stretched to the tips of his toes. 

He only looked around to Lopez when the robot dropped whatever strange device he had been carrying. 

“Madre de Dios. Ponte la ropa. Me canso de ver cuerpos carnosos. Puedo pretender que eres todos los robots cuando se tiene armadura,” Lopez begged. 

Tilting slightly as he yawned into another yoga stretch, Donut smiled toward Lopez. “Hey, Lopez! I had a great night’s sleep! Thanks for asking.”

The robot shook his head before bending over and grabbing the device which had broken antennas. He groaned. “Típico. Me paso toda la noche haciendo una nueva radio . Entonces esto sucede. Hay un dios y que quiere este equipo para morir. Puedo aceptar eso.”

“Maybe it needs double D batteries,” Donut offered, finally standing straight. “I’ve never been interested in D’s. Or C’s or B’s myself. I prefer things to be measured in numbers. Like inches.”

Lopez didn’t even look at Donut for a moment, gathering the pieces of the device before going stiff. He looked up at Donut and tilted his head. 

“¿Usted entiende eso? ¿De todas las cosas?” Lopez demanded.

“Oh, man, Lopez, I would _love_ to help!” Donut sighed. “But I need to make breakfast. And it’s a little chilly so I should put my stuff on.

The robot let out an aggravated sigh but muttered nothing else as Donut trounced on into the tent, took delicate lengths to oil himself down, and then painstakingly put on his entire bodysuit and power armor on, ensuring all things fit as snuggly as possible. _Perfect._

By the time Donut left his tent for the second time, the sun had managed to lift just a little higher and, sure enough, someone had beaten him to making the fire and cooking breakfast. 

“Simmons!” Donut called out as he neared his teammate’s side and took a seat. “I didn’t think you’d get up this early!”

“Yeah, well, hard to sleep when Grif’s snoring in your ear,” Simmons grumbled, poking at the eggs on the frying pan. 

“His tent was that close?” Donut asked.

“He was _in_ my tent,” Simmons groaned. “He didn’t bring his own tent.”

“Didn’t Sarge say everyone had to pack one?” Donut asked only to get a heavy glare from Simmons. He laughed and nodded. “Oh, right. _Grif.”_

Simmons and Lopez up and about made some sense, but Donut _really_ wasn’t expecting it when Sarge kicked his foot through the door of his tent rather than unzipping it. 

He probably _should_ have, but he didn’t.

“Up and at’em, boys!” Sarge chuckled as he walked through the hole that was far, _far_ smaller than if he had bothered to unzip his tent door. “I expect early risers from nothing better than the Red Army’s best men!”

“Is that why you’re not counting Grif?” Simmons murmured, still poking at the eggs, _still_ upset at his apparent lot in life.

“Is Grif asleep?” Sarge asked.

“Do you have to ask?” Simmons huffed.

Unable to _not_ participate in the conversation, Donut bounced in place and looked excitedly to Sarge. “Grif’s asleep in _Simmons’_ tent, Sarge!”

“What!” Sarge bellowed. “I told everyone to bring their own!” He then focused his glare on Simmons, squinting until it was hard to even see his eyes in the wrinkles of his face. “That rule was specifically put in place because of you two!”

“Can’t you just simplify things and say it was specifically in place because of _Grif?”_ Simmons asked in a groan before glaring at Donut. “And by the way, thanks for the secrecy, Double Tattle-nut.”

“Ese insulto era débil. Su madre se avergonzaría,” Lopez called from the Warthog.

“Ah, forget Grif,” Sarge snapped. “If he’s going to sleep the day away, let him!”

“Okay!” Donut replied easily.

Simmons tensed. “Wait… you mean like… leave him here while we go on? Strand him in the wilderness. I mean. It’ll be fun and I’m for that, I just want to make sure we’re talking about… temporary. Right?”

“Better than that!” Sarge crowed. “You see, I have something special planned for you all today, an assignment he’ll miss out on because of his laziness!” 

“Sweet!” Donut cheered. “Silly Grif! He’s going to miss the assignment.”

“What _is_ the assignment?” Simmons asked suspiciously. 

Sarge stared back unblinkingly. “Securing a perimeter for our current position! On foot!” 

“We accept, Sir!” Donut called out before Simmons was able to shake his head.

“Wait! Why on foot? It’ll take twice – maybe three times as long without the Warthog!” Simmons cried out.

“Because I’m working on the Warthog, dum-dum!” Sarge answered.

“What? What’s wrong with it?” Simmons demanded.

“Well I won’t know until I start looking her over! Standard maintenance, Simmons! You should know this! It’s important to maintain our vehicles,” Sarge said, looking somewhat disappointed toward Simmons. 

“Sir, I am _aware_  of the importance of vehicle maintenance. Believe me,” Simmons answered impatiently. “But we rarely do it _in the field!”_

“And that’s the sort of laziness I would expect from Grif!” Sarge claimed. 

Sighing, Simmons just shook his head. “Okay, Donut, let’s go before I have an aneurysm.”

“Wow!” Donut cried out, getting to his feet as Simmons slowly stood. “That’s _one_ medical emergency we’ve not had yet!”

Simmons just groaned as they began their very, _very_ long walk. 

* * *

What constituted a true perimeter check turned out to be a bit of a topic of debate between Donut and Simmons as they carried themselves forward on the trek.

“I’m warning you!” Donut howled through his cupped hands. “However you are out there, you better _now_ take five _more_ steps back than you did before! Or _oh boy_ will you be trespassing!”

Simmons stared at Donut incredulously.

“Donut, we’ve been through a _lot_ of weird and stupid stuff together over the years,” he reminded the private. “But you’ve officially taken the cake today for _weirdest_ and _stupidest.”_

“Thanks, Simmons!” Donut replied cheekily, glancing over his shoulder. “I always appreciate being recognized for my work!”

Even with their helmets on, Donut could see the exaggerated roll of Simmons’ eyes and the shake of his head. 

“Nevermind, just come on,” he groaned, moving forward. “Thank god you forgot how to turn on the microphone function in our helmets.”

Letting out a gasp, Donut reached up to his helmet and pressed by where his ear would have been. “Actually, Simmons, I _didn’t_ forget how it turned on. I’ve always had a knack for turning on things.”

“ _Goddammit,”_ Simmons groaned, beating the forehead of his helmet against the nearest tree trunk. 

“I just forgot that it was there altogether! How ridiculous of me,” Donut laughed before clicking the amplifier all the way. “HEY!” he yelled only for a screeching bleat to come out from his helmet.

Simmons flinched back just as several birds went squawking and flying through the air to get away from Donut’s noise. “Jesus christ, Donut!”

“JUST SO YOU KNOW,” Donut continued yelling into the speaker, “I’VE GOT IT ON GOOD AUTHORITY THAT IF YOU JUMP OUT AND TRY TO SCARE US, WE’LL FILL YOUR HOLES!”

“Oh my _god,”_ Simmons groaned as he stepped back closer to Donut. “That’s not how that goes! It’s _fill you with holes,_ Donut!”

Blinking a few times, Donut turned and wondered why Simmons was trying to talk to him on the side of his bad ear. He angled his head better toward his teammate and yelled through the speaker, “WHAT!?”

Almost falling backwards, Simmons let out a string of curses before throwing up his arms. “ _Turn the microphone off, Donut!”_ he screamed back.

“OH!” Donut said before reaching up and flipping the button. “Oh,” he said quieter before laughing. “Sorry about that, Simmons!”

“I don’t believe even for an _instant_ that you are,” Simmons deadpanned before waving back toward the area. “This is completely useless! I am so tired of Sarge not even _considering_ asking me for my opinion on things. He doesn’t want me to take a look at _whatever_ he made up was wrong with the Warthog even though I’m his appointed science officer. He doesn’t want to consider my opinion for any sort of commands despite the fact that I’ve been appointed captain by a _general._ And, honestly? I don’t get where he thinks _my_ promotion is any more fake than his considering he _exchanged his for us saving the planet._ Who’s the faker here?”

Donut blinked a few times. “I think it’s _Grif_ who he thinks was falsely promoted.”

“No, it’s both of us,” Simmons sighed. “He just gives Grif more consideration because I’m still obedient.”

“Well, you’re not _as_ obedient as you used to be,” Donut offered. “So there’s that.”

That only made the maroon captain glare at Donut more heavily. “Yeah. _That_ took a lot of improvement.”

Humming as he scratched at his neck, Donut offered another shrug. “You’re still outranking _me!_ I’m still a private! You’re a captain! Technically you should be able to boss _me_ around!”

Taking a long sigh and shaking his head, Simmons seemed rather unimpressed with the offer. “Sorry, Donut, but I don’t see how much _that’s_ supposed to do for me.”

Frowning, Donut put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Well, it’s _not_ supposed to improve your bad attitude apparently, Mister Grumpy Helmet!” 

“I just want Sarge to be able to see that he can get annoyed with Grif’s leadership all he wants, but _I’m_ not going to lead us straight into disaster,” Simmons moped. 

Tapping his finger against the mouth of his helmet, Donut hummed before an idea hit him like a truck. He snapped his fingers together. “Oh! I’ve got it, Simmons!”

“If it’s a rash I am _not_ checking it out for you,” Simmons mumbled.

“It’s not this time,” Donut assured him. “Simmons! You can lead _me_ on this perimeter check! Tell me how you want it to be done, show how efficient your version is, and then tell Sarge how great you did!” 

“Huh,” Simmons replied apprehensively.

“Oh, what’s wrong with _that_ plan?” Donut asked. 

“Well, it means counting on your ability to _follow_ orders first off,” Simmons replied crisply. 

Donut nearly bounced on his feet. “Which means it’s a guaranteed success!”

“Which means I’m putting my faith in _you,_ Donut,” Simmons reminded him. “No offense – actually. No. _Total offense._ You tend to give me the short end of the stick any chance you get.”

“Who, _me?”_ Donut asked innocently. “Simmons! I would never–”

“Shut up, Donut. You do it all the time!” Simmons cried out. “You tattled on me _just this morning!”_

"Wait a minute,” Donut said slyly. “Is _that_ the real reason why you’re grumpy?”

“They’re _all_ grounds to be grumpy,” Simmons fired back.

“Tell you what, Simmons,” Donut said. “You just order me around for the next little bit and try it out.”

“Fine,” Simmons huffed.

“I’m great at taking another man’s lead,” Donut continued.

“For fuck’s sake, Donut! I _said alright!”_ Simmons moaned, literally smacking his visor. “Just… I don’t know. Take twenty steps forward. This _is_ still a perimeter check after all.”

“Okie dokie, artichokie!” Donut replied cheerfully. He then exaggeratedly began stepping forward. “One. Two. Three-Mississippi–”

“Oh my god this will be the longest day of my life,” Simmons decided as he slowly walked a few steps back behind Donut. 

“Seven. Eight,” Donut carried on just as he placed his ninth step only for the ground to feel strangely spongey beneath his weight. He let out a curious noise and looked down just before he felt the entire earth shift beneath him.

In an instant, Donut felt the weight give way beneath his feet and in a blink he went from standing to on his back as a flurry of grass, dirt, and rock surrounded him then broke way to stagnant, open air. All the while screaming _NINE_ at the top of his lungs to a volume that impressively matched that of the helmet microphone. 

Then it all ended with a crunch of his armor against a rock floor. 

After a bleary moment of being face first in the newly discovered rock, Donut groaned and pushed up to a sitting position.

“Ow,” he declared definitively.

“Oh my _god!_ Sarge is right, I have no right to be in command! Oh my god I killed Donut,” Simmons’ voice echoed all around him.

"Simmons?” Donut called out curiously, looking up above toward the one beam of light he was getting from the current hole he was stuck in. 

“Donut!?” Simmons’ voice echoed back from up above. “Where are you!? What happened!?”

“I don’t know!” Donut called back truthfully. “I can’t be sure, but I think I fell into some kind of cave!”

There was a quiet pause for a moment and what sounded like a very loud, very aggravated sigh from Simmons.

“A cave,” Simmons clarified.

“Yup!” Donut called back.

“ _Again!?”_ Simmons screeched. “Why the fuck do these things keep happening to us?” 

“I don’t know,” Donut replied truthfully. “But, uh, this one’s _way_ darker than the last cave. I can’t see a thing outside of the hole I came in!”

“Can’t you just say the hole you _went through–_ You know what? Nevermind. Every way to do this is terrible and bad and I don’t want this conversation anymore,” Simmons groaned. “Okay, Donut, I’m going back to get Sarge and Grif. See what we can do to get you out. Don’t starve to death or anything in the, like, twenty minutes it’ll take for me to come back.”

“Are those orders?” Donut asked curiously.

“ _Yes!_ Now don’t die!” Simmons snapped.

Donut whistled a bit as silence replaced Simmons’ yells. 

He waited quietly before remembering he was still under orders. 

“Oh, that’s right. I still have eleven steps to take!” he called out before turning to face the direction he had been facing above ground. “Let’s see. Ten. Eleven. _Twelve–”_

As if he was given a cue, Donut fell flat on his face again into a large pile of hard, rectangular boxes.

“What’s _this?”_ he wondered curiously as he stumbled through them, only getting to his knees once the sliding boxes had all settled around him. He hummed curiously before grabbing one of the boxes and feeling around.

In the darkness, he couldn’t make out anything, and by touch it was just a weird rectangle _thing._

Shrugging, Donut pushed to his feet and carried one of the boxes back into the light. 

He squinted at it before finally seeing that it was covered in labels and warnings.

“That’s for explosives, that’s for guns,” he counted off before flipping the box over. “Oh! I know that!” 

Donut paused and soaked in the information. 

“What’s an explosive firearm from Charon Industries doing in a cave on Red Team property?”

* * *

Simmons took longer than he had said he would, but Donut was understanding. Especially when he could hear the Warthog itself blaring its polka music throughout the approach. 

There was no doubt that getting Sarge to stop working on the vehicle as well as rounding up both Grif and Lopez took some time. So, for Red Team, the fact that it took them only two hours to get back to Donut was actually impressive!

Stomach rumbling, Donut stood up in the basking light and began waving emphatically as the grumbling arguments and groans of his teammates got closer.

“Hey, you guys! I’m down here! Still! Waiting!” Donut called out. “Did you bring some of the brunch baskets I packed? Because I am getting peaked down here!”

An orange helmet popped into view first and Grif let out a low groan. “You’re right, Simmons. He _is_ alive,” Grif sighed with a shake of his head. “Donut! How the fuck did you manage to fall into a cave? _Again!”_

“I know! You’d think we’d quit repeating plot points,” Donut yelled back. “But I guess it _has_ been fourteen years. And there’s something to be said for a running joke!”

Grif’s head tilted up as he was joined by the rest of the team. “He’s raving already, Sarge. I think it’ll be kinder if you just go ahead and put him down. You know. Before he manages to annoy us into joining his insanity.”

“Ah, he’s fine,” Sarge dismissed with a shrug. “You _are_ fine, aren’t you, Donut?”

“Just peaked!” Donut repeated.

“You haven’t seen any snakes have you!?” Simmons demanded, voice a little on the side of hysterical.

“The only light I’ve got is from the hole you guys are standing around,” Donut answered. “If there _are_ snakes, then I wouldn’t have been able to see them! If I was closer to the hole, I’d give it a good stretch, then I’d see if a snake got in this hole!”

” _Goddammmit, Donut!_ ” Grif cried out. 

“He didn’t say there _weren’t_ snakes,” Simmons continued, voice quickening with each breath. “That’s it. I’m not going down there.”

“ _Nobody’s_ going down there!” Sarge announced. “The only person coming in and out of that hole is Donut.”

“Alright!” Donut cheered.

“Okay, everyone is setting him up for these on purpose!” Grif growled. 

“Shut up, Grif!” Sarge barked, turning to Lopez. “Lopez! Run back to the Warthog and grab that rope!”

The robot let out an audible sigh and marched back toward the vehicle and out of Donut’s view. 

Donut smiled back up to the team, hands on his hips and head cocked to the side. “Hey! I appreciate you guys getting me out of here and everything, but how’re we going to get all these weapons out if it’s just _me_ coming out of the cave?” 

The rest of Red Team turned toward him, the quieter squabbling between them dropping into silence entirely. 

“What are you talking about, son?” Sarge demanded. 

“These!” Donut called back, turning to the stack of weapons he had grabbed to sit on while he was waiting and bringing them into the light, holding them up for all to see. The others’ silence continued. “They’re all from Charon Industries! I’d say they’re pretty important, right?”

Red Team was quiet even as Lopez stepped back up with the rope in tow, dropping it at Grif and Sarge’s feet. He then joined them in staring at Donut. 

“How much is down there!?” Simmons called out. 

“A bunch. Like enough to block a tunnel,” Donut informed them. “And more than that, I think they’re new because on the other side of the stack is like a bunch of equipment and it’s not really that dirty. Oh! And lights! But I couldn’t find the plugin because it was so dark. Which is weird because I can usually find where to insert no matter–”

“Holy fucking shit,” Grif said, aghast as he looked to the others. “The left over pirate scum guys. They’re stockpiling or something.”

“But why!?” Simmons cried out. “Kimball’s not even been after them since they started getting ready for the elections!”

“Classic misdirection!” Sarge chuckled. “While the armies and people are busy worried about something else, the pirates have a perfect opportunity to make a plan of attack! Genius. Makes me want to kill them more! How dare they take notes right from the Red Army Handbook!”

Donut thought back to the Blues and Kimball and everyone else that would be in danger with this discovery and he stepped closer into the light. “Guys! We have to radio the capital and let people know before something happens!”

“How!?” Simmons demanded. “Sarge blew out our radio!”

Everyone grew quiet at the memory.

“Well, _shit,”_ Grif sighed, putting a hand over his helmet. “ _We’re_ going to have to do something, aren’t we?”

“Damn straight we are!” Sarge called before kicking the mass of rope into the hole, forcing Lopez and Simmons to dive for the end of the rope so it wouldn’t fall in with the rest. “Everyone pull Donut out! We’ve gotta start strategizing!”

Grinning, Donut punched the air. “Oh, boy!”


	4. Log Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m so happy everyone’s looking forward to a Red Team story! I really feel like I should write more of them, they’re a lot of fun to write for and I just love the dynamics. Hopefully some of that translates into portraying said dynamics well lol We’ll see!
> 
> Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, @splendiferousblog, @novofame, Annony, staininspace, @notatroll7, @HappyFunBallXD, and Yin for the feedback on tumblr and AO3!

The climb out of the cavern had been a little more difficult than the fall _into_ it, but Donut considered at least _part_ of the difficulty had to come from everyone’s insistence that he carry as many of the firearms he found as he possibly could. 

And from the fact that Grif stood at the back of the line pulling the rope, but really he just held it loosely in his hands and made grunting noises to _sound_ like he was helping. Or, at least, he did until Sarge caught on and let go of the rope to berate him.

“Grif!” Sarge howled, leaving Simmons and Lopez to fall forward and barely keep themselves from falling into the cave. 

Donut let out a high pitched squeal of his own as he dangled lower in the musty air than he had been just the second before, watching a few of the boxes of guns tumble back down. “ _Guys!”_ he drawled out, spinning on the rope. 

“Sarge! Please! Agh!” Simmons shouted. 

“Esto nos lleva a ninguna parte,” Lopez gritted out.

“It’s not night yet, Lopez!” Donut corrected, despite his mounting fears of falling back into the cavern. “It’s got to be at _least_ a few hours before the sun even goes down!”

Lopez remained silent for a moment before lifting up his hands off the rope and causing Simmons to drag a little further toward the hole, lowering Donut more. Both Reds screamed at the predicament. 

“Simmons!” Sarge snapped, turning away from the less than impressed Grif. “Are you telling me that you cannot lift the weight of a fellow soldier!? That is basic strength training for the military! And you call yourself a captain!?”

“Sarge, _the general_ called me a captain! Because it’s a _legitimate title I earned!”_ Simmons argued, voice sounding nearly as strained as his muscles. “And not _only_ can’t I lift another soldier, I can’t lift _hundreds of pounds_ of battle armor as well as _hundreds of pounds_ of weapons that the soldier is also carrying! So please! Help!”

“Pretty please!” Donut cried out for good measure. “I’m well hung for now, but I need you guys to do something about it!”

“Jesus _christ_ , Donut!” Grif roared. “ _This_ is why I’m not helping!”

“ _Everyone_ is helping!” Sarge yelled, grabbing the rope and yanking it enough to get Simmons, somewhat unsteadily, back on his feet. “Grif! Lopez! Everyone help give Donut one more lift!” 

At last, Donut could feel a tug of the rope above him as the rest of Red Team grabbed the rope and, with one massive heave, yanked him out from the cave and sent him crashing back into his teammates, save for Sarge who chuckled at a job well done. 

“Knew I still had it in me,” Sarge marveled at the accomplishment.

Donut pushed himself up enough to look back at their leader and salute. “Thanks, Sarge! I really appreciate it!”

Beneath him, Grif and Simmons immediately began squirming and pushing on his armor. 

“Do you appreciate it enough _to get the fuck off_ already!?” Grif yelled. “Donut!”

“Oops! Sorry, guys!” Donut said cheekily as he jumped to his feet. 

Lopez sighed, grumbling under his breath once he was back to his feet and grabbing some of the equipment Donut had still managed to pull out of the cave. The robot inspected the boxes carefully before starting to open them.

Simmons, sitting on the ground, grabbed for a box as well. “If we’re _really_ doing this, and guessing by the gleam in Sarge’s visor, I’m _assuming_ we actually are, then I need to look to see what kind of firepower we’re dealing with.”

“Great idea, Simmons!” Sarge agreed, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get right on that. Lopez! Put that gun down and let Simmons inspect it.”

Turning his head to Sarge, Lopez almost looked exasperated. “Sería ir dos veces más rápido que si tanto los examinó,” he droned.

"Lopez, I don’t have time for your impeccable sense of humor! We’re about to go to war with pirates! Or… outlaws. Or. Paramilitary forces,” Sarge declared before coming to a pause and putting a hand thoughtfully to his chin. “One of those things. _Regardless._ We’re going to war! So let Simmons do his job!”

“Alright!” Donut cried out, bouncing with energy. “This is going to be _so awesome!_ Isn’t it, Grif? Grif?”

Grif stared at Donut intently while Lopez dropped the gun and walked off grumbling. The orange soldier shook his head before waving to Donut. “Donut, follow me for a sec. I need to pay you back for the s’mores.”

Donut, unable to pass up any opportunity to needle the other Red, came up to Grif’s side and followed. “Oh, Grif. I know you liked the s’mores, but _that_ kind of payback is a bit much.”

“What?” Grif asked before going back over his own words and slapping himself in the helmet. “For fuck’s sake– _Second, Donut!_ Follow me for a _second!_ Good god!”

Satisfied with himself, Donut made no qualms as he followed Grif further into the woods toward their camp.

* * *

Given it was _Grif_ , Donut didn’t have to worry too much about getting far out into the woods for whatever private conversation they needed. Even despite the obvious determination Grif had, he was already wheezing and his march becoming something of a waddle. 

“Huh,” Donut said, clutch on his gun still strong. “You really _do_ appreciate a stroll in the daylight more after being stuck in a cave for a while! Thanks, Grif!”

“Stop dicking around for _one minute_ , Donut!” Grif ordered, finally rounding on the other soldier. Though, the moment Donut inhaled to make a comment on the phrase, Grif rapidly began shaking his head and holding up his hands. “No. Shut up. I know what I said.”

“Well,” Donut joked, tossing his head to the side. “What I _was_ going to say–”

“I don’t care,” Grif said angrily. “I’m talking. You’re listening. Got it?” He glare intensified as he dropped his chin. “As a _captain_ to a _private_ , got it?”

Donut stared back at Grif for a moment and let out a thick breath before nodding. He was a lot of things, but insubordinate was rarely one of them. On purpose, at least.

“You have _got_ to stop suggesting shit to Sarge,” Grif growled finally. “I’m being _serious_ here, alright? He has listened to every word you’ve said since the second you joined this godforsaken team.”

Squinting, Donut put a hand on his hip. “Okay. I’m _pretty_ sure that’s not true–”

“It’s true,” Grif snapped. “We’re on this stupid trip because of you and I’m pretty fucking sure that we’re about to get ourselves killed because of you.”

“But–” Donut began to protest only for Grif to hold his hand up again.

“I’m just going to remind you that anything shitty that happens to us from this point on? _Especially_ to Simmons and me? It’s on _you_ , Donut,” he ground out. “Yeah, part of it is Sarge’s fault because he’s our shitty defacto leader. Whatever. But at the end of the day the only person playing lip service to his idiocy is _you.”_ He paused before adding, “And _that_ innuendo was on purpose.”

Donut watched with a blink as Grif shoved past him before scowling slightly. 

“Now that’s just _gross_ , Grif,” he snapped off only to get no reaction from his fellow Red. 

He watched with slight dismay as Grif headed back to the others without him before taking a heavy breath and running a hand carefully over his helmet. 

“Man,” he huffed once he was to himself. “I _really_ don’t think Grif has a point but… Gosh. I don’t want any of the guys getting hurt on my accord.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth and glanced to his firearm. “I really don’t want anything bad to happen to Chorus either. Huh. I guess that’s what they would call a predicament.”

He glanced forward, foot tapping. “Unless… I could maybe do something _without_ getting any of the guys in trouble with me.” Donut smirked to himself before racing off toward the cave entrance he had unwittingly made once already that day. “Sounds like a job for Double Oh Donut!”


	5. Log Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over halfway done!!! I have to say, I’m so happy that people seem genuinely excited and interested about a Red Team story! And Donut’s just a blast to write overall so I’m so grateful for the chance to write him and continuously run into the issue of having to come up with innuendos so unnatural to my being that it hurts lol In all seriousness, though, this is a lot of fun and I really do hope you guys are continuing to enjoy it!
> 
> Special thanks to @analiarvb, @secretlystephaniebrown, @notatroll7, CutiePi, HappyFunBallXD, Yin, and staininspace for the feedback on tumblr and AO3!

When it came down to it, Double Oh-Donut had probably always worked best as a lone agent.

In theory.

James Bond didn’t really have a partner in the field, not usually anyway. Donut had never seen a James Bond movie past the credit sequence which had, without fail, always sent him off into sputtering rambunctious adventures of his own invention as a kid. But he was _fairly_ certain he would have seen a pop culture reference to it over the years if there had been one. 

So Grif had had a point about Donut pulling the rest of the Red Team into an adventure that was best left to Double Oh-Donut, and if he survived it then Donut made a mental note to let Grif know how unironically appreciative he was of the stern talking to. 

Though the thought of Sarge and Simmons chewing Grif out in his stead was just as good to go on, Donut figured. 

Tying the rope used to pull him out of the cave to a nearby, sturdy tree, Donut easily began his descent into the cavern, that time with a flashlight and his preferred rifle strapped to his back for good measure. 

It had taken a while, but as Sarge argued with Grif and Simmons over the packed lunch, Donut had made tea, wrote his explanation on a notepad, and left said notepad on the steering wheel of the Warthog. It was the only proper way of conveying that he was going it solo in the name of the glorious Red Army. 

Simmons wasn’t the _only_ one who had read the Red Army handbook Sarge gave them in the canyon!

Setting foot in the cavern, Donut finally let go of the rope and grunted, looking to his tender hands even if it was a useless gesture while he was fully armored. 

“Man,” he whined. “I wish I had known we’d be using so much rope on this trip! I would’ve brought my personal rope. This stuff chaffs _way_ more than I’d excuse on a proper playdate!” 

After a pause, Donut sighed and clenched his hands into fists. “Focus, Donut,” he chided himself before glancing into the dank darkness of the caverns around him.

Reaching for the back loop of his belt, Donut pulled out the flashlight he had grabbed from the Warthog and lit up the caverns. His eyes widened in surprise of just how long and deep the caves were, his own head tilting back as he gave the place a full overview, swinging his flashlight back and froth to do so.

When he whistled, Donut was met with the long echoes of his noise. 

“Wow!” he called out, beginning to walk toward the part of the cavern where he had discovered the Charon weapons. “This place looks like it can go on _forever!”_

As Donut walked forward, the truth to the observation only seemed more and more apparent, the tunnel only generating more path before his flashlight the further he went. 

But with the newly appearing caverns, Donut found himself facing more and more signs of _something_ more nefarious surfacing. Mostly, more boxes and crates stacked along the walls with the emblem of Charon Industries tackily smacked across them. 

Having seen more than enough of the boxes to pique his curiosity, Donut stopped and felt around with his free hand for a more easily opened box, lucking out on only his third try and managing to pull the lid off. 

Some hay and dust flew out of the top, causing Donut to cough and bat at the air on reflex before reaching in and grabbing the first of several round objects he could feel within. Donut leered at the object as he pulled it out and confirmed his suspicions.

“I _knew_ I knew a grenade when I felt one!” Donut huffed, gently putting the object back in the box and backing away, counting at least a dozen similar boxes. “Yikes. This is like an orgy of explosions waiting to happen!” 

He hummed and put a hand to his chin. “Maybe I should stop talking to myself while I’m doing my spy thing. The only noise a spy makes on a mission _is their narration!”_

Blinking a few times, Donut looked back toward the part of the tunnel he had first come from and held up his flashlight only to find that the tunnel continued in much the same expanding, infinitely dark way the way he was headed had. 

He was far enough on the journey to not be able to see the part of the cavern he had first landed in and that was enough to send a chill up the soldier’s spine. 

“And that was when Double Oh-Donut wondered if it was too late to call for reinforcements,” he narrated before turning back toward his original direction. He smirked, eyes narrowing. “But that was _also also_ when Agent Double Oh-Donut remembered _there weren’t no need for a posse when taking on no-good cattle rustlers!”_

He took the first step forward, newly determined when he thought he heard footsteps other than his own. 

Donut paused his steps. “But the super secret spy knew that his enemies were _way_ too self-absorbed to have been expecting him,” he reasoned. “Which was why there _definitely_ weren’t other footsteps–”

When the ground crunched a few more times, Donut began to shriek and bolt forward only for a strong hand to grab him by the helmet and yank him back. 

The force of the pull was impressive enough, but Donut’s main concern was two-fold: it had managed to put him on his back on the ground and also had scared him enough to drop the flashlight.

As the flashlight rolled, Donut half expected some tremendous monster to be revealed only to be somewhat relieved as it stopped with a clang against a familiar brown, metal boot. 

Donut’s grin split across his face as he looked up at Lopez’s familiarly disappointed head tilt. 

“LOP–”

The robot kneeled down and put a hand over Donut’s speaker with an aggravated sigh, his other hand raising a finger to his own speaker and pointing down the tunnel. 

“No estamos solos,” Lopez said lowly before finally letting go of Donut’s helmet speaker and beginning to walk toward the tunnel of Charon artifacts. 

Raising a brow, Donut pushed himself up enough to sit and rubbed at his aching back. “I already _know_ we’re soldiers, Lopez. Yeesh.”

The robot paused and glared back at Donut. With an exaggerated sigh and a shake of his head, Lopez continued forward only shushing Donut over his shoulder as his fellow Red got up and followed him again. 

“How did you even know I was down here? It was supposed to be my solo mission,” Donut filled the silence as they walked forward. The third time he was shushed, Donut reached for his gun and got himself more ready.

After a few moments, Lopez pulled out a crumpled up, but familiar, stationary from his back pocket. 

“Oh, you found my note, duh,” Donut said, smacking himself in the helmet. “Why didn’t _I_ think of that. C’mon, Donut. Get it together.”

“ _Shh!”_ Lopez hissed again, grabbing Donut and shoving him toward the walls of the corridor, glancing to a light source Donut had only then noticed. 

“Whoa, did you bring the rest of the guys?” Donut asked obliviously. 

Even he wasn’t surprised when Lopez threw his hand over Donut’s speakers again. They both watched as the light grew brighter and the fall of footsteps louder. 

With a silent glance to each other, they separated and hid behind one of the larger pile of grates. Donut readied his rifle and Lopez unloaded his sidearms, their backs to their cover. 

As he craned his neck, Donut could almost hear the breathing of the approaching soldiers. 

“What’s the point of all this, Earl?” one voice groaned. “We fucking _lost_ already. There’s no way off this rock without getting shot out of the sky. We _get_ off this rock and we’re wanted criminal escapees from the Tartarus. This fucking blows.”

"Who’s blowing?” Donut felt himself say before he could catch himself.

Immediately, both Donut and Lopez hunkered down more. Lopez’s hand outstretched so as to cover Donut’s speaker only for Donut’s hands to already beat him there. They shared a tense glare at each other as the Charon goons huffed and puffed behind them, none the wiser to the outburst.

“We might never make it off this rock, but at least we’ll take some of those bastards with us,” the other soldier sniggered. 

“Yeah. And maybe the boss’ right. With so much attention on their people getting blown the fuck up, maybe some of our ships’ll make it out of orbit. Fuck it. Worth the try.”

“Yup.”

“Man, we wouldn’t get fucking _nowhere_ without the guy in charge.”

“Yup.”

Donut glanced to Lopez as the robot let out a heavy sigh. 

“Mi amigo,” Donut whispered, “I have a planno.”

Lopez, if possible sunk closer to the floor. “Madre de Dios.” 

* * *

"Going off my natural intuition and following those bogus guards for a bit has led us to this fantastic discovery of the pirates’ base, Lopez!” Donut narrated in faux hushed tones just outside the closed doors of the criminals’ headquarters. 

“Sí, lo sé. Yo estuve ahí,” Lopez droned in return.

“Exactly,” Donut nodded. “That makes this the perfect time to explain my elaborate plan for capturing these guys just between the two of us!”

“¿Lo hace?” Lopez sneered in low tones. 

The robot looked around warily, as if the cover they had between the boxes of ammunition and the thin wall separating them and the pirate captain’s main office was only temporary and ill advised. 

If Donut had half a mind to give the action much thought, he’d almost be offended. 

“Don’t worry so much, Lopez! There won’t be anyone around to catch us just yet. As _everyone_ knows, it’s a perfect time for afternoon wine and cheese hour – _which I’m very heartbroken to say we’re missing –”_

“Sí. Estoy muy rota en torno a ella,” Lopez groaned with a shake of his head. 

“I’m real upset, too, buddy,” Donut sighed. 

“¿Usted entiende que, pero no el sarcasmo?” 

“But we can’t let it distract us any further, because while sensible people are having wine and cheese hour right now, everyone knows that the criminal element is most likely to use it as a signaling hour for equipment checks and shift changes,” Donut reasoned. “Something that is less dignified _and_ takes less time than a true culinary appreciation hour. So we only have about twenty minutes – or did. I’d say it’s about eighteen by now.”

Lopez drew quiet, head lowering a bit before tilting back up. “Estoy preocupado. Casi suena cuerdo.”

"No need to be worried, Lopez,” Donut said, a confident smirk growing across his lips. “My plan only gets more elaborate from there!”

Lopez lowered his head and released a long sigh.

“So while everyone’s out, I’m going to have you sneak into the main guy’s office! There you should be able to find a working radio in order to give New Armonia and maybe the Blues a heads up about what these bozos have planned for the elections. While you’re doing that, I’m going to ring around these boxes of ammunition, move a good number of them to where we found those explosives in the back tunnels, and rig them all to go off in a _magnificent explosion!_ All of which we’ll be safe from in this security bunker of the main pirate’s office which seems to be mostly bomb proof. One of the few times an entire planet being at war and having even civilian lives have to be prepared for attack comes in handy, come to think of it!”

The robot stared back at Donut.

Giddy, Donut leaned forward, smile bright. “Come on, Lopez! Wasn’t that a great idea?”

The click of a firearm against the side of his helmet almost immediately flattened Donut’s mood and had his shoulders slump with a sigh. “Aw, _man!”_

“Truly, it’s an _ingenious_ plan,” a gravelly voice from the other end of the gun said lowly to Donut. “Really. I’m moved. And a little disappointed that you’ll never get the opportunity to enact it. As the so-called _pirate captain_ here, however, I find it a bit counter productive to my _own_ plans. So I’ll just end you here and now with a simple question: any last words?”

As Donut sat there, his heart became deafeningly loud in his own helmet, mouth more than a little dried. For the first time in a very, very long time, his quick comebacks were at a complete loss.

There wasn’t a _single_ opening in the pirate captain’s monologue to really give him something useful. And that was the most disgraceful way to die of all – having to set up his own punchline. 

Fortunately, Lopez never seemed to be much for punchlines.

“Sí. Pato,” the robot called just before lunging at the pirate’s legs and knocking him aside – the pirate’s gunfire hitting the roof of the tunnel. 

“Lopez!” Donut cried out, standing up only for the brown armored robot to grab him, open the office door, and throw him with an incredible might into the office. Donut let out a scream just as the door slammed. He looked back, bewildered just before hearing another gunshot.

His eyes widened. “Lopez!?”

Then, without any warning, Donut _felt_ as much as heard, smelt, and saw the ensuing explosion.


	6. Log Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re coming right up on the end! I’m going to try to make sure the next two updates are a week apart at most, but I can’t make any promises. And I just want to thank all of you so sincerely for supporting this story! It’s been a lot of fun, especially for something that’s not my usual fare in writing for RvB!
> 
> Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, Yin, HappyFunBallXD, @notatroll7, staininspace, and illumynare for the feedback on tumblr and AO3!

When Donut opened his eyes, he was met by darkness. 

That in itself was sobering enough to cause him to sit up, stock straight, and let out a small cry, because waking up to darkness usually meant death, blindness, or waking up in a cave with his experiences on Red Team. 

Of the given options, Donut supposed once he calmed down that waking up in a cave wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. 

“Ugh, I’m so tired of caves,” he moaned as he sat upright and reached around through the darkness. 

His hands settled on a smooth surface of a wall rather than the jagged rocky floor he was sitting on and, suddenly, it all came back to Donut. He gasped in surprise as he remembered the pirates, the explosives, _Lopez–_

“Oh, my gosh! Lopez!” Donut cried out as he jumped to his feet, only for the sound of his own voice to become a screeching, angry whine in his own ear. “Ow!”

As the deafening noise continued, Donut reached up to his helmet, unclasping it. With a tug, it came off and he was finally able to reach for his ear’s hearing aid to yank it out. Immediately, his world became graciously silent again and he let out a breath of relief that he couldn’t hear. 

The air was thin as he breathed, which reminded him that his helmet was good for a few things other than just accessorizing with his light-red armor. Including, but not limited to, a HUD with real-time camera capabilities in his visor. 

“Doh!” Donut laughed, smacking his forehead and hearing only a faint thud for the effort. 

After putting his busted hearing aid in his pocket, Donut reached for his helmet and put it on. Once it was clasped, the vents turned on automatically and Donut released a content sigh.

“Time to get to business,” Donut said to himself, tapping on his helmet to light up his visor to night vision, leaving him to stare at the damaged and mostly crushed door of the room Lopez and shut him into. “Hm. And first order of business is to bust out.”

Sizing up the door a few times, Donut hummed to himself, feeling the vibrations in his throat more than he could necessarily hear them, which was going to be difficult if there were any noises in the near future he would have had to hone in on.

But after spending the time sizing up the door a few times over, Donut decided to go for the tried and true shoulder ramming maneuver on the door. 

That, somewhat surprisingly, led to the discover that nothing had been on the other side of the door after all. 

Donut tumbled into the opened door with a faint cry, rolling into the fall until he flattened out against a large rock in the tunnel that, as he distinctly remembered, was _not_ there from before the explosion. 

Shaking his head, Donut got to his knees quickly and sighed. “Come on, Double Oh-Donut,” he mumbled as he got completely to his feet. “You’re making rookie mistakes! And you’ve not been the rookie since _at least_ when Grif’s sister landed a ship on you! So no more excuses.”

With his scanners and night vision on his visor, Donut peered around the tunnel, more than a little surprised to see just how much smaller and more closed off it was since Lopez’s valiant move to save him. 

The thought of Lopez made Donut’s chest twist and his eyes water. He grabbed at his heart. “Oh, Lopez. You truly were _un héroe!_ I won’t let your sacrifice be in vain!” 

As he pushed up from the ground, Donut felt a thrumming, blurry sound in his ear that rose just a touch above the eerie silence that surrounded him without his hearing aid. But as Donut patiently stood in place and waited for the sound to clear up, he realized that it didn’t sound like much of anything at all. 

He shrugged. “Oh, well,” Donut said. “I’m sure it’s not important. Now…” He turned about face and looked to where he knew the pirates’ trail had been leading him and Lopez before, only to see a severe blockage from the rocks. 

“Huh,” Donut huffed, putting his hand on his hip. “No one’s fitting in _that_ hole. Which, for me, is saying something. I tend to not leave any hole unexplored!” 

When it was clear there was moving forward, Donut turned around on his heel and checked the tunnel from which he came. _That_ at least was clear as far as he could see. 

“Man, it’s like this adventure keeps retreading old territory,” he marveled before moving forward. “I kind of wish Lopez was still around. Oh, how I miss his commentary so much! He’d have something deep and absurdist to say! And I could half pay attention to it–”

Though he had only just started down the tunnel, Donut found himself tripping through the darkness face first. With a scream, he hit the ground and felt the obtrusion beneath his boot roll slightly. 

“Estúpido,” a tired, muffled voice called from behind Donut. 

With a happy gasp, Donut flipped over onto his butt and scanned the scenery as closely as he could with his helmet’s night vision. 

“Lopez!?” he cried out. “Is that _you!?”_

“No. Es otra cabeza español. Idiota.”

Blinking, Donut hit the base of his palm a few times against his helmet, as if it would help at all to clear his ears. When it did nothing to help, Donut just shrugged. “I _know_ you’re speaking Spanish, hombre. You don’t have to tell me that!”

“Madre de Dios,” Lopez groaned. “Aquí estoy. Mira abajo. Si yo fuera una serpiente que se mordía. Hasta que me fuerza.” 

With the increase in Lopez’s volume, Donut began to feel a vibration down his leg. He lifted his leg enough to see underneath his boot where a familiar helmet was staring back at him.

“Lopez!” Donut called out. “You’re a head again!”

“Sí,” Lopez replied dryly. “Estoy pensando en nuestra aventura no es tan original como una vez lo que esperábamos.”

Grabbing onto Lopez’s helmet and lifting him up, Donut couldn’t help but blink again and tilt his head. He shouted a little louder than his previous tone, “ _What!?_ Lopez, you’ll have to speak up!”

Once the words were out, Donut felt a sharp shift in the tunnels around them. He held Lopez’s head against his chest and looked around with side eyes as the tunnel shook and dust and rock trickled down around them.

After the danger had seemingly passed, Donut released some of his grip and looked down to the annoyed robot. 

“Wow, that must be some really sensitive rock!” Donut said in what he hoped was a lower tone. “I shouldn’t be too surprised, though. I’m really good at finding where hard stuff is sensitive.”

“Detener,” Lopez ordered lowly. “Tenemos que volver a los otros y advertir sobre lo que vimos aquí. O no. No sé por qué me molesto tratando de salvar a los seres humanos más. Se trata siempre de nuevo en problemas y nunca aprende a respaldar a ustedes mismos.”

Donut squinted at the head. “ _What!?”_

The second time the rocks shook, Donut held Lopez close and curled around him, though fortunately the shift of the rocks took less time than it had before. And with his head so close to Lopez’s, Donut could actually hear the sigh of aggravation against his armor. 

“Por qué yo,” Lopez said flatly.

“Shh, Lopez,” Donut said, finally uncurling and getting to his feet. “I think the tunnel is reacting to the vibrations of your voice! We’ll need you to keep quiet.”

“No puede ser grave,” Lopez marveled.

“Not now, Lopez,” Donut replied, walking forward through the tunnel, holding tight to Lopez’s head. “We have to find the others and let them know what’s going on with the pirates!”

Lopez spoke in lower tones, though Donut strained just enough to recognize what seemed like a few curses. He couldn’t help but flinch at them and wonder just what was making the robot so angry.

After a few moments of thinking it over, though, Donut had something of an epiphany and glanced back down to the head. 

“By the way,” he whispered low enough that he couldn’t hear it himself, “thank you for saving my life.”

At first, Lopez didn’t seem to react at all, but he released a sigh.

“De nada.”

* * *

Without a real light source, and carrying his own weight as well as the weight of Lopez’s disembodied head, Donut found that the trek back through the tunnels was a _lot_ longer and more difficult than he remembered. 

It also didn’t help that, due to the shifted rocks, every couple of steps Donut felt like he tripping over something else unseen.

As he narrowly caught himself from his most recent trip, Lopez’s head released long and tired sigh. 

“Sería más rápido si rodé de nuevo a los otros,” he declared in a low, disappointed tone.

Donut frowned a bit, carefully minding the ground as he stepped forward. Things were still muffled and difficult without his hearing aid, but he was willing to bet that he was making a lot more noise than usual. 

At least, Grif always complained he made more noise when he wasn’t able to hear himself. So there was precedent. 

“Don’t give up hope just yet, Lopez,” Donut begged as they came around the last bend. “We’ll be back with the others before you know it.”

Lopez let out a short snort, beginning to respond before, if possible for a disembodied head, going stiff in Donut’s arms. 

Curious, Donut glanced down to the robot. “Lopez? Something the matter?”

“Shh!” Lopez demanded. “Silencio. Hay voces más adelante. Dudo son amables.”

“What?” Donut asked blankly before Lopez, without warning, rammed back into Donut’s stomach just where the mesh of his armor flexed. It was enough to make Donut choke and fold over the head as he walked back into a wall. “Lopez,” Donut coughed weakly.

Suddenly, light – blinding light – shone from the other end of the tunnel. Donut gasped and looked around before hiding behind the nearest available rock. 

Letting out a small gasp, Donut dropped further behind the rock as the light grew larger and voices became more apparent, even to him.

“I’m telling you, the boss has _lost_ it,” one of the pirates said with a shake of his head. 

Donut watched in slight horror as the two came to a halt within an arm’s reach of him and Lopez. A squeak of _some_ kind of noise began in his throat but Lopez tilted back enough to give Donut a warning glare. Donut swallowed down the noise animatedly before nodding to his teammate.

“Yeah, well there _was_ some people in the mine earlier. I mean, _we_ sure as hell didn’t blow the tunnel sky high,” the other pointed out.

“Made our job harder, but that’s about all,” the first pirate pointed out with a nod to the boxes the other was carrying. “Now we gotta carry all this shit down the longer tunnels.”

When the first pirate knocked on the side of the crate for an exaggerated gesture, the second nearly leaped out of their armor and pulled back. 

“Are you nuts? Did you miss the whole _almost blowing up the caverns_ thing that just happened?” the second pirate snapped. “Sure, just go ahead and smack around a box full of goddamn sticky bombs!”

They stared at each other angrily for a moment before turning back around.

“Whatever, let’s just get moving. Not like there’s anything left down this side of the tunnel besides boxes of highly explosive weapons!” the first remarked, grabbing a box from the side of the tunnel opposite Donut. “Which is convenient, because boss’ entire operations are just on the other side of this mine! And right now is a super sensitive time in the whole operation. Maybe the last time anyone will have a chance at stopping us!”

Quietly, Donut and Lopez soaked in the information just before the pirate paused halfway from standing up. 

“Got all of it out of you, Charlie?” the second pirate asked sardonically. “Wanna tell me what I already know some more?”

"Hmm,” the pirate hummed in response before shrugging. “Nope. I think that just about covered it.”

“Alright, let’s get out of here then,” the other grunted as they turned and continued down another path. “I feel like we’re being watched in these old tunnels.”

Silently, Donut and Lopez sat behind their poor excuse for cover. After a few breathless moments, Donut sat up more properly and positioned Lopez’s head precariously balanced on his knees. It served as the best he could do to getting the robot eye level. 

“Did you hear that, Lopez?” he asked in a mock whisper, considering he could still hear his own words.

“Sí. Pero tengo mis dudas de que se pudiera. En absoluto,” Lopez answered dryly.

“They have _sticky bombs!”_ Donut elaborated just in case. “ _And_ They’re heading to the pirates’ super, secret, and probably _really_ important location with them! And a whole bunch of other explosives.”

“Estoy seguro de que cualquiera que estuviera aquí habría entendido con claridad todo lo que por ahora,” Lopez countered.

“I think that means you’ve got a plan for us,” Donut grinned ear to ear. “But no worries, Lopez! It only has to be backup, because _I_ have a plan, too!”

The robot released a long sigh. “No puedo creer que estaba dispuesto a morir por ti,” he ground out over a gravelly synthesizer. “Esto va a terminar en lágrimas.”

Pushing up to his feet, Donut carried Lopez underneath his arm as he carefully snuck forward. “Tears of _happiness_ I hope!”

“¡Pare el escoger y elegir lo que traducir!” Lopez cried out.


	7. Log Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost at the end!!!
> 
> Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @scribbleboxfox, @analiarvb, Lalond4life, Yin, staininspace, and HappyFunBallXD for the feedback on tumblr and AO3!

Following the tunnels proved to be an obnoxiously simple way to get to the root of the pirates’ operations. The sort of obnoxious simplicity that left Lopez’s flat commentary at a constant murmur just below Donut’s hearing threshold.

“Sorry, Lopez,” Donut said, covering himself behind another stack of crates. “I didn’t _quite_ get that. Try more from the back of the throat.”

The head in his arms tilted back and let out an angry sigh. “Usted está intentando duro.”

Donut frowned and held him tighter. “Yeah… I know,” he muttered in return just before looking up and seeing two dark clad Charon soldiers marching in their direction.

Letting out a faint cry, Donut dropped down beneath the crates and looked down to Lopez. He held up one finger to his mouthpiece and shushed the disembodied head. 

“Incluso si estás bromeando ahora quiero estrangularte. Detener,” Lopez warned with a certain degree of finality. 

Before Donut could sputter back a reply, the angry growl of the approaching soldiers was loud enough even he could hear it. 

“If this plan doesn’t work out, it’s _all over!”_ one snarled. “Do we _really_ trust this guy to lead us into some sort of last minute deal to save our tails? We trusted those assholes who took over the Tartarus and look what it’s gotten us.”

“Jack,” the other mused.

“And _shit,”_ the first finished before angrily punching the crate on the top of the stack, sending it and its contents toppling over. 

Silenced by the proximity of the enemy, Donut and Lopez watched silently as firecracker sticks went rolling around them and the cave floor. There was a simple glance shared between them as the pirates continued obliviously. 

“Not like we have anything to lose, though,” the second sighed.

“Yeah, that’s true,” the first groaned before they began to step away. 

The moment he could, Donut began peering over the crates and humming to himself as the soldiers left them. 

Bracing himself against the crates that were left, Donut set Lopez’s head down on the ground facing him and then set about using his freed hands to start grabbing up the sticks as much as possible. 

"Haga lo que haga, será una mala idea,” Lopez promised him flatly. 

“Well, Lopez, since you asked,” Donut replied, continuing to gather up the firecrackers. 

"Yo, ciertamente, no lo hice,” the head scoffed.

“I figure if they think they’ve got nothing to lose, they’re _really_ about to learn that they’ve not seen nothing to lose until they meet Franklin Delano Donut!” Donut smirked. 

Lopez was quiet for a moment, seemingly watching Donut gather the last of the supplies and begin packing down what he could in his holsters and subspaces before finally giving a single solid shake. “Eso fue triste. Bastante triste que casi me dio una emoción. Felicitaciones.”

Donut paused for a moment before looking at the head and frowning. “That was too fast, Lopez. Think you could say it again?”

The robot grunted and sighed but seemed almost ready to respond when Donut held up his hand.

“Nah, it’s okay, I got the majority of it, that’s okay,” Donut revealed. “It _is_ kind of sad, I guess. But I think the biggest thing is that I don’t have anything to lose coming down here because I have _everything_ to prove. We Reds get in a lot of trouble, sure, but when I think about it I _have_ invited it a few times when I shouldn’t have.”

Shocked, Lopez tilted upward. Then, after a moment, gave another sigh of, “No me gusta lo inconsistente de su alcance es español.”

"Okay, Lopez, that’s enough chit chat for now! We’ve got to maybe-possibly-just-might save the world right now!” Donut admonished, getting a regrettable sigh from the robot as he picked up the head.

There was an undeniable increase in the presence of soldiers as they got deeper into the cavern, but more than that there was also an increase in the number of weapon filled crates and vehicles. 

Donut marveled at them all for a moment before smirking down to Lopez. 

“And they thought they didn’t have anything to lose,” he chuckled. 

Lopez shushed him and Donut ducked back behind more cover before beginning to pull out firecrackers from his more than ready supply. 

As each guard changed over, Donut hurried into the clearing and began tossing firecrackers into the seats of various vehicles along his way. Then he found cover once again – rinse and repeat. 

After the minutes ticked by, Donut began to feel himself bouncing with a certain amount of not before tapped energy he didn’t realize he had. _Excitement_ at the prospect of pulling of a successful solo mission. 

“We’ll just need to ignite _one_ of these to set off _everything_ and then, _BOOM!_ Oh, wow, Lopez, this idea is great,” he giggled to himself.

The robot head rumbled with another shush. 

“No tienes idea de lo fuerte que eres. Incluso usted susurros se despertaba hibernar los osos,” Lopez admonished.

“Hm,” Donut said with a squint. “I don’t know _all_ of what you said, Lopez, but it definitely sounded negative.

For a moment, Lopez seemed ready to pout in silence before stiffening up. “Espere,” he ordered. “Estoy recibiendo la señal de mi cuerpo. Puede que sea capaz de controlar desde aquí.”

“What?” Donut asked, brow furrowing.

"Madre de Dios,” Lopez groaned irritably. "Dame tiempo para caminar por aquí.”

“What!?” Donut tried louder, growing more convinced the Spanish robot was just ignoring him at that point. 

The moment the question left Donut’s mouth, he could tell he had made a critical error. Not only from the heavy sigh Lopez gave him, but from the prickling sensation that he was being watched, and watched _intently._

There was also the tell-tale sound of over a dozen guns cocking all around them. 

Surprised, Donut looked around only to see that they were, in fact, surrounded. 

“Oh, boy,” Donut sighed. “I don’t think I’ve had enough practice to handle a whole room of men all by myself. My stamina’s been _shot_ since we crashed your guys’ big ship.”

There was a tense silence before one of the soldiers broke their stance in order to look worriedly toward the others. “Wait. What?”

As soon as their concentration was broken, Donut noticed the brown lumbering body without a head just to the right and how it completely socked one of the nearest soldiers before taking the gun. 

Donut didn’t waste time before ducking under the fire of the other Charon pirates and tucking himself and Lopez’s head beneath the nearest jeep. 

"¡No! Necesito ver mi cuerpo, idiota,” Lopez snapped. “También estamos ocultando debajo de uno de los coches que tiene explosivos. Una de las explosiones y cada uno de ellos va a explotar. Tenemos que salir.”

“Oh, you’re _right,_ Lopez!” Donut grinned, looking back. “We _do_ need to leave with a bang.”

The head sighed once more.

“Yo no estaba programado para esto.”

"But how could we get out of here fast enough to not get caught int he explosion?” Donut asked the talking head worriedly. 

As the gunfire between Lopez’s rampaging body and the pirates continued, Donut huddled more around Lopez. There was a part of him that knew it was only a matter of time before stray fire or friction hit any one of the firecrackers they had placed around all the important and explosive equipment in the area. 

The terror of the situation was beginning to take full grasp until gunfire began to subside and the low, nearly indistinguishable tune forgotten in the white noise of Donut’s hearing came blazing to the forefront.

“Wait just a minute!” Donut cried out enthusiastically. “That can’t be… _Can it?”_

Lopez muttered lowly, “¿Habrá alguna vez un momento de mi vida donde puedo distinguir entre la felicidad y temor cuando escucho esa música?”

The gunfire picked up yet again just before a giant crash took out the majority of the soldiers that had been firing on them.

Donut excitedly rolled out from under the vehicle cover he had had and looked to his fellow Reds. 

Simmons and Sarge fired upon the ranks while Grif’s head snapped back and forth before settling on Donut.

“There they are! God _damn_ it, Donut! Get in the fucking warthog!” he bellowed. 

“But I don’t want you guys to get in trouble because of my plans!” Donut said hesitantly, clutching to Lopez. “I mean, look what happened to Lopez!”

For a moment they paused long enough to look over them.

“I don’t get it,” Sarge said. “Is there something supposed to be different about Lopez?”

“Los odio a todos,” Lopez replied flatly.

“He’s missing his body, Sarge,” Simmons said. “But I don’t see how that’s different from usual.”

"Hm, good point, Simmons,” Sarge nodded. 

Donut looked at them all, mystified, before finally climbing on board. 

Watching Lopez’s body creepily flop into the jeep alongside him caused Donut to shudder as well as give the same response to Grif. 

“Okay, we’re peeling the hell out of here. Everyone hold tight!” Grif warned, starting to turn the Warthog around. 

“Wait!” Donut cried out. “Lopez and I threw a bunch of firecrackers at all kinds of vulnerable parts of this place. If we ignite one on our way out, they’ll blow each other! Not to mention all the incendiary ammo and weapons in those boxes!”

A glint appeared in Sarge’s visor as his helmet tilted back. “Boys. Prepare to make an explosive exit!”

“This is so dangerous! But… if these guys have this much stuff to attack Chorus with, I guess we don’t have a choice,” Simmons agreed reluctantly. 

Sarge reloaded his shotgun and took aim from the back of the Warthog. “Grif, pedal to the meddle!” 

As they peeled out, a few straggling pirates jumped onto vehicles as well. But the moment Sarge shot at one’s tires, the vehicle flipped and in an instant, it was in flames. There was a crackling explosion and suddenly _everything_ began feeding into the chain reaction. 

“Step on it, Grif!” Simmons screeched as Sarge chuckled and dropped down to sit next to Donut and the still mangled Lopez. 

“I am!!!” Grif roared back before sending the Warthog careening out of the caverns. He made a sharp right, nearly sending them into a spinout, but as soon as they came to a rest, they watched as the flames enveloped yards from the entrance had they continued forward.

They watched in amazement.

They sat in the Warthog for a moment, admiring the destruction for a good few moments. 

“Well, boys!” Sarge called out, a chuckle in his voice. “I do believe this is one hell of a way to finish the day. 

“Amen to that,” Grif sighed, leaning back in his seat. 

Lopez’s body forcefully pulled its head from Donut’s grasps and began adjusting it back onto his neck. But Donut was too lost in thought to fully fight Lopez over control of the body part. 

“Guys!” Donut shouted, getting a flinch from everyone. 

“Not so loud, Donut, fucking hell,” Grif complained, rubbing at his helmet. 

“We can’t stop yet! There was a guy in charge of all these pirates, and he wasn’t in there,” Donut informed them. “If he’s still around, they’re still going to attack Chorus and the elections! It’ll be terrible.”

“Eh,” Simmons shrugged. “Statistically speaking, very little of the population actually votes anyway–”

Not wanting to waste time fighting for patriotic ideals, Donut whipped around to face Sarge instead. “It’s Red Team’s duty, Sarge! We can’t turn back just yet. We have to save Chorus again! And this time _without_ Blues!”

Sarge was silent for a moment before reloading his shotgun yet again, empty shells spilling out over the back of the Warthog.

Grif sighed. “So much for leaving this to Kimball’s people.”


	8. Log Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have another story drawing to a close. This was such a refreshing and just plain fun story to write and work on, and I was just blown away with all the support and love you guys shared with me for it. I hope you guys had a lot of fun reading it and that I do you all a service with the ending. 
> 
> Special thanks to @ephemeraltea, @notatroll7, Yin, and @analiarvb for the feedback on tumblr and AO3!

As it turned out, it _wasn’t_ all that difficult to find a massive gathering of black clad criminals with explosive weapons in the middle of the wilderness. Really, it was only about as difficult as finding the last open booth at a convention. 

Grif was leaning into the steering wheel as they watched from the distance. Donut _would_ have considered it about the most interested he had looked since they had begun hunting down the pirates, but the truth was the wheel was giving his chin a good resting spot. 

“I think they’re gathering for a last rally!” Sarge declared, a little too loud for comfort. “That would be _my_ move as a leader. Bringing all my troops together for one last, precariously placed and exposing morale boost.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Grif grumped. “It _does_ sound like a move you would pull off as a leader.”

Simmons shot Grif a warning look before finishing his tinkering. He handed Donut the fixed up hearing aids. 

“Here, Donut,” Simmons said gently, almost _too_ gently as it forced Donut to lean in closer. “I finished these. You should be able to hear with them now!”

“Wow, Simmons! You’re the best!” Donut cried out, taking the hearing aids as everyone shushed him.

Taking off his helmet, Donut began putting in the devices rather excitedly. He was less than _half_ listening to Simmons’ ramblings on the devices. 

“And just so we’re clear, I made some enhancements to them, so the odds are you’re going to get a loud burst of amplified noise. But if you _focus_ you’ll be able to hone in on the conversation that the pirates are having down in the clearing–”

Donut turned on the hearing aids and almost immediately jumped out of his seat, sensitively rubbing at his ears. 

“Owie!” he barely whispered. “Gee, Simmons. Some warning would have been nice!”

Simmons gave him a dull look. 

Lopez let out a small laugh from the back of the warthog and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ahora ves lo que he tratado con todo el día.”

“Heh, now’s not the time for jokes, Lopez,” Sarge chuckled, shaking his head. “But humor at a dire time _is_ appreciated!”

The robot let out a strong, vented sigh. 

“What’re they saying down there, Donut?” Grif asked, trying to get the conversation to move along. 

Surprised, Donut looked at Grif. “How did you know my hearing aids are picking up that much noise?” Donut asked curiously. 

“Seriously?” Simmons asked in aggravation.

“I used up my quota of ignoring Simmons _years_ ago, so now some things slip in whether I want to listen or not,” Grif said flatly. “Now tell us what the bastards are saying down there.”

“Right!” Donut nodded before leaning forward in his seat and squinting down at the Charon pirates’ gathering. As if squinting had anything at all to do with the power of his hearing aids. 

He watched as the heads of the soldiers bobbed up and down at each other throughout their conversation. But otherwise it was difficult to tell which pirate was _who_. Their armor was _so_ uniform and lacking in personalization. It was sort of depressing.

Like an actual military or something.

“What do you _mean_ we lost half the men and over a quarter of our supplies!? That cave in should have taken care of that pink bastard!” the leader snarled at his soldiers.

Donut gasped, putting a hand over his chest. 

Immediately, everyone in the warthog got tense and concerned, moving closer to Donut. 

“What? What is it?” Simmons asked worriedly. 

“I think they were talking about me,” Donut muttered, sounding utterly mystified.

“ _And?_ ” Grif pressed.

“They referred to my armor as pink,” Donut scoffed.

They all sat back in their seats, heads shaking and the tension all but let out like the air in a balloon. Which Donut didn’t honestly appreciate that much all things considering – these were _serious_ charges after all. 

“Son, maybe you should offer those amplified ear thingies to someone who is going to have more of an attention span for possible end of the world scenarios and who everyone can understand clearly,” Sarge offered. He then threw a thumb in Lopez’s direction. “Like Lopez.”

The robot simply glared at the old man without uttering a word.

“Wait wait wait!” Donut shushed them all, leaning forward in his seat again. “They’re talking about the attack again!” 

Everyone grew silent, waiting anxiously as Donut nodded and waited on a key phrase that would change everything. Namely the _when_ for the Reds to attack. 

“Then we’ll have to get on the move _now!”_ the leader snarled. “I refuse for anyone else to fall to these senseless, idiot sim troopers! We are hardened, _trained_ professionals, and these fuckers will _not_ have the last say on our legacies.We’ll be remembered, we’ll be _known._ And Chorus will remember that this band was led by–”

Donut turned to the others and nodded to Grif. “Now, guys! They’re mid-speech and riled up, not expecting anyone!”

“Finally,” Grif grunted before flooring the warthog. 

Just as the pirates seemed to be ready to celebrate the end of their leaders’ speech, the Reds went sailing overhead of them, guns blazing and Sarge letting out a whoop that was almost embarrassing if it weren’t for the endorphins all of the Reds had flowing through them from the excitement.

Grif managed to stick the landing of the warthog, however bumpy, and kept them rushing forward. He winged the vehicle around in a wide swoop, opening up the shots for Simmons, Donut, Lopez, and Sarge to take at the remaining pirates. 

Donut grinned under his helmet, feeling a swell of success – like _this_ was what a military maneuver was supposed to feel like for the winning side. 

But as the moment carried on, as the pirates dropped one by one, the Reds found themselves silenced by the familiar sound of a fuse burning. 

They all looked at once to a stack of the boxes of incendiary weapons like those found in the cave, where one of the old-samey armored Charon soldiers was stood on top holding a lit stick of dynamite. 

One with a ridiculously long fuse, but a stick all the same. 

“Holy shit!” Simmons cried out. “The blast radius when that blows is going to be huge!”

“Get driving, Grif!” Sarge snapped. 

“Uh, to _where?”_ Grif demanded, waving around them. “Do you see how thick these woods are?”

“Wait! I can navigate us through some thick bush!” Donut offered. 

The pirate’s head whipped back and forth between all of them before he stomped down his foot and drew their gazes back to him. The fuse was still going. “Motherfuckers, _shut the hell up!”_ he roared. 

They all looked at him curiously. 

"And just who the fuck are _you_ supposed to be?” Grif asked, tapping on his steering wheel in annoyance. 

“Yeah, who gives a damn about the guy _holding the stick of dynamite,”_ Simmons snapped at Grif. 

Humming, Donut tilted his head. “Wait, Grif has a point, Simmons! I don’t know who this guy is. He’s not introduced himself, and not to say everyone in black armor looks the same _but_ none of these guys have _any_ sense of personalization at all!”

“I kind of like it,” Sarge decided with a gruff nod. “I think I’ll start making it Red Team protocol that standard issue Red will be the _only_ acceptable Red armor!”

Immediately, everyone else in the warthog looked at him completely aghast. 

“What!?”

“Ew, no!”

“Sarge, absolutely not! Where are we going to get standard issue Red on Chorus?”

“Absolutamente no.”

The pirate looked back and forth between them all before waving his hand of dynamite around wildly. “Will you shut the fuck _up!?_ I’ll tell you who I am! I’ll tell you exactly why this godforsaken planet will rue the day that I got pulled into its stupid as fuck war!”

Everyone looked back to the pirate, more annoyed than before. He really _was_ cutting into their banter time.

Donut was mid eye roll when he felt Sarge go stiff beside him. He looked to their leader curiously and followed his gaze to the pirate in question and saw that the fuse was almost up. 

“Oh,” Donut said.

"Grif! _Drive!!!”_ Sarge bellowed.

"Hoooo shit!” Grif yelled, realizing just what everyone was referring to. He immediately floored the warthog and sent them spinning out toward the far-too-thick treeline. 

Everyone began yelling at once as the warthog roared beneath them. 

"Wait! You haven’t even heard what my name is yet!!!” the pirate screamed after them. 

They didn’t look back or stop, everyone screaming as Grif recklessly took them jarring left and right again and again to avoid trees as they sped into the distance. 

By the time the explosion came screeching behind them, the forest ahead was breaking up into the clearing before a cliff – one with a jump that was by no means a simple make.

“GRIF!” Simmons yelled.

“Everyone hold on!” their driver warned just as they went straight for the edge. 

The screaming continued as the back wheels left the edge. 

“I love you guys!” Donut screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Shut up, Donut!” everyone unanimously screamed back before getting a second wind on the long, harmonious scream that followed them right off the edge. 

* * *

Agent Washington stared at them expectantly. 

“And _then?”_ he finally prompted, not even looking behind him as Kimball’s men tried desperately to leverage the warthog stuck in the canyon wall with the straining hornet. 

“Then, _what?”_ Grif asked, waving to the canyon floor. “We camped out here until you assholes finally found us.”

“Way to not investigate smoke signals!” Sarge huffed.

“At _most_ you were in this canyon for a few hours after that explosion got our attentions,” Wash snapped. “Are you telling me you couldn’t survive in a well supplied canyon for a few days if you had to?”

The Reds looked at each other, then back to Wash.

Sighing, the former Freelancer shook his head. “Nevermind. Forget I even asked. Did you at _least_ get this guy’s name? Anything?”

“Sorry, Wash,” Donut shrugged. “I didn’t have him written down in my little black book.”

“Besides!” Sarge called out boisterously, clapping a hand on the back of Donut’s shoulder so hard that it nearly sent the private flying forward. “The _only_ name necessary for today’s events is _Franklin Delano Donut!”_

“Aw, Sarge, that’s so sweet of you!” Donut blushed.

“And Colonel Sarge, of course,” Sarge continued.

“There it is,” Grif grunted.

“Seriously, though, Donut took out most of the problem totally on his own,” Simmons said, almost sounding mystified. “It was weird.”

“Well, regardless of who did the most, I’m sure Kimball will want to speak with you all and thank you,” Wash said, sounding nearly as surprised as Simmons when push came to shove. “It looks like Red Team saved the day.”

“Well, _yeah,”_ Grif snorted. “We didn’t have to take a break every five minutes and deal with fucking _Blue Team Problems,_ am I right?”

Wash stared at him dully for a moment before going back to the Chorus soldiers, mumbling about _no respect._

Sarge wasted no time in stepping up and turning around to face the Reds, chest swelled with pride. “Good work, men!” he called out. “I say it’s time we really celebrated in _true_ Red Team fashion!”

“How do we do that?” Simmons asked. 

“Yeah, we’ve never _really_ had a good reason to celebrate being a team before,” Donut said. 

“Usually we have something to celebrate in _spite_ of the team,” Grif added. 

“Huh, I dunno,” Sarge said, tapping on the chin of his helmet. “Lopez, any suggestions?”

"¿Que importa?” Lopez droned. “Sólo vamos a estar alrededor y perder el tiempo hablando. Como siempre lo hacemos en un cañón.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Simmons sighed.

“I do!” Donut cried out. “But, Lopez, where are we going to get that much confetti?”

“Oh!” Simmons snapped his fingers. “Grif! You’re in charge of confetti, right?”

“What? Do I look like I have confetti?” Grif asked.

“Grif!” Sarge snapped. “Are you slacking on your assigned duties again!?”

Donut looked around at his team, eyes filling with tears. He sniffed and wiped at them with the utmost sincerity. “I love you guys.”

“Shut up, Donut!”


End file.
